All For You, I Gave
by Antwonette
Summary: Naia is a simple, young Spartan girl, living in the age of King Leonidas and his beloved Queen Gorgo. But times are hard, and war is fast approaching the powerful land that is Sparta.
1. Part One

From across the square she watches him, laughing and talking among his friends. He is the center of attention, and rightly so. He commands an audience with unspoken power and unwavering charm; an air of fellowship follows him wherever he goes. He is tall, like all Spartan men, and moves with a flowing grace that makes men unlike his kind look like clumsy fools. He is lean, but not unhealthily so, with very well defined muscles; a taut, firm stomach composed of rippling tendons, thick, sturdy shoulders that sculpt a powerful, well-built back that ends just above a well-rounded buttocks, that finally leads to a pair of perfectly toned legs. Atop this perfect body sits an equally, if not more, divine head, trim with laughing, deep brown eyes and thin yet supple lips. His nose is long, though not abnormally so, giving him the look of sheer arrogance with a dash of handsomeness and well upbringing. His teeth are straight and white, his skin a deep, tawny brown from being out in the sun for countless days. His chin and cheeks are lightly dusted with roguishly handsome, course blond hairs that match the hair upon his head. Long, it was, just past his shoulders, and pulled away from his face with a leather thong, giving fine definition to his ultimately godlike looks. Dressed in the particular uniform of the Spartans, with a flowing, crimson cape, a brown leather loincloth, and a sword at his side, he is the epitome of masculine bliss that accompanies the wicked thoughts in Naia's mind.

Like all his Spartan brethren, Adonis is beautiful. From head to toe, the man is a sculpted masterpiece that belongs in the heavens rather than on Earth. But Naia is glad he is here, because Adonis is different. He is different in every way imaginable, from all the other Spartan men. He has a beautiful smile and a wonderful personality, along with the dangerous prowess of a warrior. For years, Naia has watched him from the shadows, wanting, needing, craving Adonis, but she knows 'tis but a dream. But a beautiful dream nonetheless, one that she will embrace for the rest of her life.

Clutching her woven basket tightly, she looks away from the lad, her face mottled from the high blush that had risen on her cheeks. Long, curled brown hair billows in the gentle wind as she dips her head to inspect a bushel of apples in a crate before her, before, again, she looks up with dark eyes to the invader of her thoughts and fantasies. He is laughing again, rough-housing about with two of his Spartan peers.

_Oh, how I wish he would look at me._ Naia sighs to herself, looking away again to the fruit before her as she goes about her way, her simply made pure white peplos wallowing about her fragile frame. She is a dainty young woman, none like the traditional lean, tall Spartan women, but she is Spartan nonetheless and though she appears shy on the outside, she is a hellion within.

Her leather sandals drag in the dirt at her feet as she moves along through the marketplace, the bright and warming sensation of sun rays tickling her skin, causing her to smile for a different reason other than Adonis. She loves living in Sparta, under the gallant rule of King Leonidas and Queen Gorgo. Sparta is prosperous, with many houses full of happy children, men and women. Surrounded by a high wall that none could breach and protected by one of the most, if not the most, powerful armies in the world, Naia feels safe here in Sparta; safe and at peace. Every house was made of the sturdiest stone, and the fields surrounding were ripe with good crop and healthy livestock. She could ask for no more; no more save an undying love with her Spartan warrior. Not the love she feels for her family; her father a proud Spartan solider and her older brother in his wake, her mother a strong, brilliant Spartan woman, just as beautiful as Naia. Naia would not trade it for the world, this life—

"Catch, sister!"

Turning quickly, startled by the sound of her brother's deep voice, Naia suddenly cries out in horror as a thin sac filled with water hits her specially woven basket and bursts, sending water flying everywhere. It soaks through her white peplos, and she drops her basket, casting the fruit she had been collecting for her mother to the spoils of the dirt beneath her feet.

"Orrin!"

Laughing, Naia's older brother Orrin and a gaggle of his friends, who were all proud Spartan warriors, crowd around Naia, ignoring the look of pure malice on the beautiful girl's face.

"Come now sister, do not look so angry. 'Tis merely a bit of fun we were having."

"Aye, fun that cost me mother's fruit! She's going to be angry with you once I tell her what you've done!" Dropping to her knees, Naia begins to pick up the fruit, scowling up at her brother all the while. "Go on with you, rogue; I have no time for your tricks."

That brings another round of laughter from the boys, and, humiliated, _Oh I hope Adonis was not watching! _Naia begins to pick up the fruit from the ground, wishing she could merely melt from the heat of the sun, into the dirt.

---

She moves with the slow, graceful glide of a wraith, though she is full of more life than anyone else he knows. She could give life unto other's, he is sure of it. For her smile lights up the room when she enters, it makes his heart beat faster when he sees her, even for just a mere second. Her eyes, radiant and bright, play tricks on his mind and make his throat tight as she scans everything and everyone around her but him. Her body, so small and delicate, holds many secrets; secrets he would give anything to discover. Long, luxurious hair dances in perfect waves down her narrow back, ending just above a plump and deliciously round bottom. Her legs, though small, are narrow and trim, barely visible through her ivory peplos. Her skin is a creamy, sun-kissed color, her lips shaped like Cupid's very bow. Her cheekbones are high, her skin utterly flawless. She takes his very breath away with a single glance, a smile upon her seductive lips that he aches to feel on every inch of his darkened skin. The picture of innocence is his Naia; the woman he can never have.

"Adonis, what are you staring at?" A hand appears in front of his eyes, and he quickly snaps out of his reverie, blinking multiple times before turning his orbs to his most beloved friend Dorian, who is looking at him in question, a thick brow raised, before he turns his eyes to the object of Adonis's most desired attention. His eyes narrow before turning back to Adonis's own, but he says nothing and brings about another topic of conversation among their group of Spartan brethren.

Reluctantly, Adonis tears his eyes away from the meandering beauty and back to his friends, though he hears their conversation not. They speak of war and battle tactics, of when they will next spar with each other, or when they think Sparta will go to war against the ever-powerful Xerxes. But he cares for this conversation not. All he cares for is the one woman that pays no heed to him, who thinks nothing of the mighty Adonis.

But he cannot help but watch her; she is too addicting. He cannot help but watch as she stops to pick at a bushel of apples, as red as her beautiful lips. Adonis feels his throat go dry when she lifts a delicate hand to pluck an apple from the group, and then another, her brown eyes narrowed in thought. How he wishes to feel that hand on his skin, burning through to touch his soul. And those eyes.. They play havoc on his mind. They are dangerous to a man who want nothing more than to stare into their depths and get lost in the passion within.

Suddenly, and to his horror, Adonis watches as Naia's eyes widen in sheer terror as something quite large and round hits her basket, sending the item to the ground and her wares sprawling about her feet. Grasping the hilt of his sword with a fierce growl that sends his comrades into silence, Adonis unsheathes his weapon and makes to lunge to Naia's rescue, only to feel throughly stupid when he sees that her aggressor is none other than her arrogant brother.

Over the noise of the marketplace, Adonis does not hear what Naia is saying, but he knows she is angry and, casing his sword and ignoring the prying tones of his peers, Adonis makes his way across the square to his damsel in distress. Taking long, powerful strides, he reaches his beloved and, glowering up at her impudent brother, begins to help Naia pick up the fruit she dropped.

"You should be kinder to women, boy, lest you end up alone." Adonis snarls, gently taking Naia's basket from her tender grasp and placing her dirtied fruit within.

Naia freezes, as a large, calloused hand appears in her line of vision, grasping a fallen fig. A tug on her basket brings her eyes up, meeting the startling physique of Adonis. _Adonis? _Dear Zeus! Her heart nearly stops in her chest, her breath caught like a fly in a spider's web, in her throat. Her eyes are broad, looking at the Spartan with a blush to match the scarlet of his cloak as her hands shake violently. _Adonis!_

"What do you know of kindness?" Orrin spits, causing his sister's eyes to widen to the size of dinner plates, more so than they already were.

"More than you do, boy." Adonis places Naia's fruit in her basket, every last piece, and then stands to his full height of six-foot-three. Naia can only gape, watching as he rises with the grace of a warrior. A beautiful warrior he is, muscles rippling with every movement his wondrous body makes. Naia is frozen in her crouched position, her face the color of a thousand suns, hands still poised as if holding her basket.

She snaps her jaw shut though, when Adonis turns his gaze to her's and extends a powerful, sensual hand, fingers outstretched. "Come, milady, let me help you to your feet."

Just as she was about to reach for Adonis's hand, the slicing of metal against a scabbard causes Naia to let out a small gasp in horror. Her eyes darting towards her brother, Naia watches as he balances the tip of his blade directly below Adonis's chin, his eyes tightened in a menacing scowl.

"Do not touch my sister, Adonis. I do not want her pure body soiled by your sins."

Naia begins to gape once more, her eyes riveted on her brother, her heart now throbbing in her chest. _Adonis!_

"Brother, please!" Naia pleads, scrambling to her feet, standing between the warriors, her back to Adonis. Her heart still pounding, she is all too aware of his godlike body standing still as a statue behind her own, of his radiant heat escaping him. Her spine prickles and she feels her face flush again, but she lifts her chin bravely to meet her brother's haughty glare, his sword all but lowered from Adonis's chin. "Do not be brash."

"Brash?!" snarls Orrin, taking a step forward; so close that Naia can hear the sing of the blade as it moves closer to it's target, and the heightened breath of the man behind her. "Step aside sister, this is not an ordeal for women."

"You treat her as if she is the dirt below your feet!" Adonis roars, much to the surprise of Naia. Then, even more to her terror, Naia feels herself being pushed aside, and then her beloved basket thrust into her trembling arms. "You will not speak to Naia as such!"

_He knows my name!_ Naia's heart soars as she watches her brother and the man she adores about to engage into battle in the middle of the crowded marketplace; the situation is now capturing the concern of passing residents of Sparta. But Naia is temporarily in her own world, her own blissful heaven. Her eyes feast on the beast that is Adonis, watching as he leaps back and draws his own blade, matching it with Orrin's. He moves swiftly, surely, his eyes narrowing on his victim as his lips curve into a sadistic smile.

"I will whip you like the dog you are."

It happens so fast. The glare of the sun is hard on her eyes, but Naia does not miss a heartbeat. Letting out a cry of sheer horror, Naia stumbles back and drops her basket once more, bringing a hand to her mouth. She watches as her brother and Adonis engross themselves in a battle so fierce, so horribly enchanting, that she can do nothing but stare. Battle cries rent the air, as well as pleas from townsfolk to cease and desist, but they fall on deaf ears. The Spartan warriors are relentless, they hear nothing, see nothing, but the crimson color of blood.

"Spartans!"

The ragged, deafening cry of their leader is the only thing that could halt their battle. And it did. Swords points meet the ground, not yet tinted with the stain of blood, but in a matter of moments who knew what could have happened. Breathing heavily, both young Spartans glare at one another, while a crowd of villagers watch, with bated breath, as their king emerges from the crowd, a look of disapproval on his face.

Naia always thought King Leonidas was a handsome man. Like all other Spartan men, he wore the crimson cape and the brown leather loincloth. A sword at his side, and tall unlike no one else, he is dangerous, cunning, and charming all in one. He is powerfully built, and the most respected Spartan who ever lived. His face is chiseled perfection, hosting a short beard of ebony hair, with eyes to match. His hair is cut close to his head, and he wears a single braid down to his shoulders to signify his status as leader of leaders. With one, powerful hand on the hilt of his sword and his wife trailing not far behind him, Leonidas stops just on the outside of the rim of villagers gathered around Adonis and Orrin.

"What is the meaning of this reckless quarrel?"

Adonis and Orrin, like the trained warriors they are, turn to face their king and bow before him, their swords dangling at their sides. All is quiet in the marketplace, the only sound coming from the uncontrollable livestock waiting to be sold.

"My king," It is Adonis who speaks, with the proud tone of a skilled solider. His brown eyes contract, darting to his rival, before looking to Leonidas once more. "I was but teaching this heathen a lesson in respect. I fear he has no manners when it comes to dealing with women, or men for that matter."

A snarl is ripped from Orrin's lips, and he casts angry eyes at Adonis. "I refuse to be talked down to like a filthy street rat! Fight me you coward!" Once more, Orrin lunges into a battle stance, forgoing his king and pointing his sword at Adonis.

Adonis merely sneers. "You see, Leonidas, he thinks too quickly, and acts too brashly. Not smart for an almighty Spartan warrior."

Naia's breath catches in her throat at Adonis's words. True, her brother tends not to think before he acts, and Adonis is his opposite in every way. But one thing held true. Both were warriors, and dangerously so.

"Nay, Adonis," Leonidas says cryptically, beginning to circle the two boys with an amused smile on his face. "I think it is you who is acting brashly." Adonis's eyes widen briefly, but he says nothing, waiting for his king to speak. "We are Spartans! Give the enemy nothing, but take from them everything! Why do you waste time conversing with your lips, when you should be with your swords?"

An animalistic battle cry rents the air, and Naia can barely contain a scream for her brother as he dives for Adonis. "Orrin!"

For one mere second, Naia's brother falters at the sound of her angelic voice. And the move costs him. Prepared for the attack he knew was coming, Adonis's sharpened weapon slices Orrin's forearm, and the stagger that comes from Orrin afterwards allows Adonis to stab him in the stomach with his opposite fist, bringing the younger Spartan to his knees. Adonis stands above Orrin with his blade below his chin, smirking down at Naia's brother smugly.

"You, Spartan," Leonidas says, his eyes narrowing on Orrin with entertainment dancing in their depths. "Need more training."

Orrin growls, but holds his tongue, before knocking Adonis's blade out of the way and clamoring to his feet, a scowl on his impeccably handsome face, framed by dirtied, deep brown hair. He drops his sword to his side and Adonis steps back; there will be no more fighting today.

"Milady," Naia jumps, her eyes having been riveted to Adonis too deeply to notice that her king stands before her. "Who are you to have made such a fine warrior stumble in his assault?"

Naia hastily curtsies, her head inclined to show respect. "His sister, milord."

"His sister?" There is an air of question to Leonidas's voice, and Naia curtsies once more. "What is your name?"

"Naia, milord."

Leonidas smiles as Naia looks up, causing the young girl to blush and look to the ground. "Take care of your older brother, Naia. He is a free-spirited lad that needs the proper harnessing, if he is to live through battle."

And with that Leonidas turns, his blood-red cloak swirling about his legs as he strides back to his own home, his queen in his wake. Naia watches with wide eyes as the marketplace bustles once more with movement and voices, but Naia does not move, nor can she. She can only watch after Leonidas, too stunned by the encounter. But finally, she summons the will to move, and turns her broad eyes to her Spartan brother and her Spartan dream. Both are sheathing their swords, ignoring the other's gaze. Orrin then snarls and parts ways with Naia without a look back. Adonis, on the other hand, offers Naia a gentle smile and, once more, stoops to pick up her fallen fruit and basket.

"I can get it." Naia says shyly, dropping to her knees to help Adonis pick up the now ruined fruit, whereas her brother is gone from the square, fuming all the while. "Please, don't bother..."

"'Tis not a bother, milady." Adonis says softly, the basket in his clutches, the destroyed fruit inside. "It is as much of my fault as it is your's that you dropped the fruit, and I would be honored if you let me buy you new, fresh fruit."

Startled by such an offer, Naia jerks her face to clash with Adonis's, which is tender and kind, not a trace of arrogance or dominance mauling his pleasant features. Naia blushes, and hastily grabs for her basket, standing awkwardly and quickly; so much so that she nearly topples over once more!

"No, no I couldn't, I can buy new ones, I just need to go back to my mother for more coin." Naia says timidly, tucking the wide, round basket under one arm, and avoiding the piercing gaze of Adonis.

_Dear Zeus, but is she beautiful_, Adonis thinks, looking down on the innocent little dove that fate so happened to throw into his path this day. She is lovely, standing there under the onslaught of the sun, which causes her cheeks to pinken and her eyes to darken. Eyes that are on the ground, rather than his face. And oh, how Adonis loved her eyes. He could get lost in them, for all eternity.

"Do not be shy, Naia," he tells her gently, reaching out with a soft, yet calloused hand, grasping her small chin and tipping her head back so he can look into her eyes. His breath instantly leaves him, and Adonis feels his body harden with a need so great it causes his insides to twist and turn, his heart to pound against the bones of his rib-cage. His eyes dim with lust and affection, both of which Naia would never know. She is beautiful, standing there, her hair glittering in the sparkling afternoon sun, her peplos dancing in the sparse wind. "I merely wish to right my wrongs. May I?"

Naia swallows roughly, Adonis's hand on her chin causing her mind to spiral into a world she only dreamed of. Dreamed of late at night, when no one else was about to witness the smile on her face that accompanied her sinful thoughts. It was her dream, her fantasy, her Adonis... Her strong, sexy, Spartan warrior. Quickly, her eyes dip from his head to his toe, his hand still on her chin, causing a thrilling chill to run the length of her spine. How could she refuse?

Slowly, and but once, Naia nods her head, which causes her beautiful Adonis to smile, showing perfect row upon perfect row of teeth. It is a smile that steals the breath from her throat and the heart from her soul. She cannot help her own smile as Adonis takes her woven basket and tucks it under his own arm, and begins to walk the marketplace with the lovely Naia. He watches her closely, savoring the image of her smile as she clasps her hands before her, her head slightly bowed as she looks for new fruit to buy for her mother. But Adonis can care less about fruit, or how much coin he has; all he cares about is Naia, and this precious day they are permitted to spend together.

---

Ribbons of pink and violet, a deep gold and a glittering orange dance across the sky as dusk falls upon the ever-glorious Sparta. The moon rises in the distance, and stars begin to dust the sky. Everyone is retiring to their homes for the night, the square emptying of vendors and livestock, the city gates closed and torches being lit from within. Only two remained out, two figures that laughed together, smiled together, and never wanted to leave each other's side.

"Truly, he said that?" Naia asks with a laughing smile, her home just a few paces away from where her and Adonis are walking.

Adonis throws back his head and laughs, nodding as well. "Oh, aye, Naia, he said it, and it earned him a good beating afterwards."

Naia laughs heartily, at a story of her brother and how insolent he was when it came to obeying his Spartan overlords! _Orrin never liked to follow the rules_, she thinks to herself, glancing up at Adonis, and then away again, smiling prettily.

Never in her life had Naia enjoyed herself more. She spent the entire day roaming the village with Adonis, merely talking and taking pleasure in his company, as if there was not a care in the world. As if no other people existed, except Naia and Adonis. They got lost within one another, finding all they could about each's personality. It was a task both could have endured for days, for each new thing they learned about each other, they wanted more.

Naia loved hearing stories about Spartan warrior life; living in the barracks, training day in and day out, and being in the Spartan army. Adonis fought in so many heroic battles in his short life, and he loved every single one of them, could remember every single detail about them. His stories were so detailed, so vivid and lifelike, that Naia completely forgot about everything; the fruit, her angry brother, and how furious her parents would be the moment she returned home. No, all she heard was Adonis's voice, like a rumble of thunder, yet smooth and soothing, like the River Styx. All she saw was his smile, gleaming in the sunlight, his beautiful eyes sparkling with mystery hiding in their depths. She felt the warmth from his powerful body, and protection, just by walking next to him. She could become intoxicated in his scent of man and jasmine, and she found herself spiraling deeper and deeper in love with the mighty Spartan warrior.

Adonis was infatuated with Naia. Her laugh was melodious, her voice soft and gentle. Her skin was perfection; flawless, and the color of sun-kissed cream. Her hair was long, and once or twice when his hand brushed up against it, he felt pure silken curls beneath his fingers. He loved watching her walk, watching her bend over a vendor to pick out a certain fruit. She had the perfect body, rounded in just the right places, and gods how he wanted to taste her. For but a moment, he wanted to sample heaven. His heaven. _Naia_.

"Well, this is my home." Naia says, stopping before a plain, sturdy wooden door. From inside she could hear the ominous talking of her father, and was prepared for the punishment he would give her. She would endure a thousand punishments for just one day with Adonis. "Thank you, for your kindness."

Adonis smiles, ignoring the banter between husband, wife, and child inside. He didn't want to give up his moment with Naia, not yet. "'Twas my pleasure, my lady. I enjoyed---"

Naia is almost splintered in two by the door that comes crashing open, if it wasn't for Adonis who swiftly snatches her out of the way. There stood her father, Thanos, one of the most feared and respected of the older Spartan males. He is a tall man, almost as tall as Adonis, with sleek, long brown hair, tied back with a leather thong. His brows are forever knotted, and he has a long, crooked nose, broken many times by combat. His chin and the area surrounding his lips are thick with a dark beard, though it is cut close to his skin. His eyes are harsh, and, upon landing on Naia, they burst with outrage.

"Insolent daughter!" He reaches for Naia, but Adonis steps between the two, much to both of their surprises.

"What is the meaning of this!" Thanos roars, drawing his wife to come hurtling outside from within, her face pale and stricken with terror.

"Naia!"

She embraces her daughter, burying her face into her shoulder and holding onto her tightly. Naia looks much like her mother, the only difference being that Calista is the older of the two women.

"Forgive me, Thanos, 'tis my fault your daughter was abroad all day."

Naia jerks away from her mother, her mouth slacken in horror. Why would Adonis say that! She was more than willing to take the punishment for disappearing for more than half the day, alone.

"I saw her in the marketplace this morning having a little trouble with her basket full of fruit," Adonis's eyes dart to Orrin's, who is standing behind his father looking sullen. "And thought I should help her with her errands. It was my own err in judgement that kept us out all day, do not punish Naia."

Thanos eyes Adonis angrily, before looking to his most beloved, and only daughter. His gaze softens, and Naia offers her father a warm smile, silently assuring her father that she is perfectly fine and equally unharmed.

"I thank you, Adonis, for returning her to me safely." Thanos says gruffly, as his wife slips back into her home, her eyes misting with tears of joy for her daughter's secure return. Thanos, looking down at Naia, and then to Adonis, says sternly, "We're waiting to dine daughter, do not linger while retrieving your wares for the day."

Stunned, Naia watches as her father closes the door once more, leaving her and Adonis alone. _Unheard of! Scandalous!_ She thinks to herself, fighting to hide the happy smile that wants to cast over her face. It could cause horrible gossip for a man and a woman who were not married to be alone, unsupervised, and for her father to trust her so, she loved him even more.

Silently, and fighting a smile of his own, Adonis places Naia's basket into her awaiting arms and steps back, leaving the girl on her stone stoop alone, looking up at the proud, brave warrior before her.

"It was an honor, and a privilege, spending the day with you, Naia." Adonis exclaims, bending low in a regal bow, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

And then, to her vast astonishment, Adonis quickly steps forward and places his lips upon Naia's. Not in a demanding manner, nor a crude, but just soft enough to entice, and tantalizing enough that it makes Naia crave for more than just a kiss. Oh, his lips are so soft, just as she dreamt, so warm and full. Her first kiss this was, with the man that had forever haunted her dreams.

Adonis could not stop himself, even if he wanted to. He burned for Naia all day, and needed a taste. Just a simple taste. And oh, she tasted like sunlight and the sweetest honey, her lips so plump and innocent. Parted just enough in surprise that Adonis could quickly sweep his tongue across them and then pull back, leaving them both breathless, and both aching for more.

"Dream sweet, milady." Adonis whispers, a soothing, tender hand reaching up to touch the soft flesh of Naia's cheek. Closing her eyes, she savors the warmth of her love's touch, before revealing her brown orbs once more to watch him leave, with a swirl of his magnificent crimson cloak and a swagger to make any woman melt to naught but a puddle on the ground. Leaning back against her home door, she cannot help but smile, her lips burning from the sensation of being tenderly plundered by Adonis's. She cannot stop the tremble from enveloping her body, nor the flight of whimsical butterflies in her stomach. She refuses to look away until Adonis is completely out of sight, and not even then does she look away, too overcome by the wonderful bliss of the day.

---

He knew it when he left her side, that once would never be enough. His body ached for Naia, for her mere touch, for her pleasant voice. For her voluptuous body pressed against his, for her lips on more than just his lips. Oh, aye, he lusted for her, but it ran deeper than treacherous lust. Naia touches his very soul, he knew from the moment he saw her so many years ago. His heart trembles at the thought of her, his throat dries when he thinks of her. But for the life of him, he cannot stop smiling as he pictures her beautiful face in his mind, and nor did he want to. He wants to live for that smile, and he dares to hope that there can be something more for him and his beloved Naia.


	2. Part Two

It was never enough. Day after day, it was never enough. He dreamt of Naia. He smelled Naia wherever he went. He saw her in every crowd he passed and she was tangled in all thoughts that danced through his mind. He felt her delicate skin beneath his fingertips and every morning, after the daily Spartan routine of a spar, Adonis took to the village in search for the woman who had captured his mind, his heart, and his very soul.

Naia, on the other hand, made it her day by day routine to wake up at the very crack of dawn, to steal from her room like the sun steals the darkness from the sky. To the Spartan barracks she traveled, following the path her brother and father took each day to train with the others. And there she would conceal herself to the shadows of a nearby alley or a hidden doorway, and watch her beloved Adonis, slashing away at his fellow soldiers, moving with the sleek grace of the mighty lion. She would watch him help the fallen, laugh when he was bested... Oh, how her body ached for her warrior. A simple kiss was not enough, and would never be enough, for the infatuated Naia.

As time wore on, they saw more of each other. Stolen glances in the marketplace became hidden conversations at local vendors, and those became runaway afternoons to the wheat fields surrounding almighty Sparta. A fortnight soon passed, and each day the two grew closer, slowly beginning not to care who saw them steal away with the dying rays of the sun, or what whispered words were passed behind the hands of gossip mongers. They became engrossed in their own world, that only pertained to the two of them, and lived and breathed only in their minds.

Neither could fathom, or remember, why or how fate brought them together. All they knew was they were completely lost within one another, but too afraid to admit such. They only wanted to revel in the other's company for as long as possible. Because the threat of war loomed closer.

---

Another bright and beautiful morning enveloped Sparta, blessing the townspeople with a splendid day for buying and selling their wares at the market. Naia is among them, dressed in a peplos that ties in a knot at the back of her neck, and is held to her supple body with a simple, brown leather band about her middle. There is an empty basket beneath her arm, but on this day Naia is not looking for fruit, or for ripened wheat to make bread. In fact, her eyes are on everything but the items for sale at the marketplace. She is searching for him, for she knows he'll be here, and she will not leave the square until his smiling eyes meet her own.

"What is it that you are looking for, Naia? By the Gods, we've been here since dawn this morning!" Orrin complains from behind his sister.

Much to Naia's displeasure, Orrin has been accompanying her to the marketplace every morning on her father's orders. It leaves the girl all but impossible to get a moment alone with, but for Adonis she'd risk anything. Not many approach the young woman anyway, save very few of her village friends; with the entourage of dangerous Spartan warriors trailing behind her, because with Orrin came his ever present fellows, none dared to approach Naia.

"Oh hush, Orrin, we have not." Naia hastily chastises her older brother, her eyes taking on a bright luminescence when she spots Dorian, Adonis's most trusted friend. "It's not like I asked you to come with me to the marketplace, anyway."

Orrin grunts, picking up an orange from a nearby basket, and then putting it down, looking dour. "Father would have my head if he knew you were out here alone."

A slow, cunning smile sweeps onto Naia's lips as her brown eyes meet another pair, sparkling with mischief from across the square. Lowering her voice, she plays the timeless trick on her brother that thwarts him every time. "What father doesn't know, won't hurt him."

She stops, glancing at Adonis who is talking with Dorian, but watching her closely. She nods subtly, then turns her back to him, allowing her brother to fall into place beside her.

"You'll say naught?"

Her heart pounding in excitement, her cheeks rosy with the mutiny she plans, Naia nods, and Orrin grins, sweeping a quick kiss to his sister's cheek.

"I'll meet you back here when the sun falls from the sky."

And with that, her brother is gone.

Adonis watches as Orrin flees from his sister, his gaggle of friends trailing behind him in a swirl of crimson cloaks. A smile uncontrollable to himself graces Adonis's face, and, abruptly leaving a sputtering Dorian in his wake, he makes haste across the square, licking his sensual lips at the sight of his heavenly nymph picking at the fruit that he knew interested her in the least.

Naia stills as she feels the heat that only Adonis can radiate as he brushes up against her from behind, his hand drifting along the narrow dip of her lower back.

"If you find the fruit does not interest you," he whispers to her, his lips softly dipping directly next to her ear, causing Naia to shiver and her lips to part in desire. "Meet me at the old yew tree half past noon."

His fingers linger on her hand for a mere moment, before he pulls himself away, his scarlet cloak trailing behind him. He looks back but once, a coy smile on his handsome face, that causes Naia's heart to swell and her cheeks to redden to match the apples she had been eyeing. Her body burns where Adonis had touched her, and quickly, so no one will know of the encounter, she looks away from her beloved, going on about her task of picking out merchandise for her mother.

Adonis rejoins his fellow Spartan, his eyes lurking on the decadent beauty that literally glows in his eyes. He does not spare one breath not thinking about her, aching for her touch, or listening to her her playful laughter resound in his ears. His heart simply beat for her, and he would gladly lay down his life, and his love, for his one, true Spartan queen.

"You are smitten with the girl." Dorian states, more than asks. He can see it in Adonis's eyes that there is no hope for his friend; he is all but lost to the charms of the young woman.

Adonis merely smiles and looks away, down to the ground to watch his feet move beneath him, taking him farther from his precious dove.

"She is Orrin's sister, there is---"

"A curse on Orrin's head," bites Adonis, his brown eyes jerking to Dorian's emerald ones. "It matters not who she is kin of."

Dorian's own blond hair sweeps into his eyes, and with an impatient hand he brushes them away. "Adonis, listen to me, you cannot get entangled with this girl! Sparta is to go to war soon, and you'll only be leaving behind someone you will never see again! Do not put yourself in that kind of pain, my brother."

Adonis turns on Dorian, halting the man sharply from their paths through the marketplace. "Do not predict things you cannot see, Dorian." Adonis warns through clenched teeth, his deep, rumbling voice coming out as a thunderous growl.

Dorian returns his friend's harsh glare with one of his own. "I'm merely watching your back, Adonis. I do not wish to see you get hurt."

"Nothing can wound me, Dorian. I suggest it is yourself that you protect." Adonis threatens with a snarl. He turns his back on his friend then and strides away, his body tense with anger.

Dorian watches after his Spartan comrade, his eyes shadowed by sorrow and churning with turmoil. His stance is rigid as he stands alone in the marketplace, people sweeping past him with their own duties to attend to. Swallowing roughly, Dorian thinks to himself, _It is your heart I'm trying to guard, Adonis. But I fear it is already lost to the enemy._

---

She is kneeling below the tree, alone, going through her basket of fruit, picking at the grapes that are meant for her mother, not for Naia's hands. But she cannot help herself, and as Adonis quietly approaches, he can think of not a sweeter sight than his dearest Naia.

Naia gasps upon feeling a strong, bold hand covering her eyes, but she knows she is not in danger. She knows these hands, has felt them upon her flesh many times before; cupping her chin as his lips softly kissed her own, lacing his fingers with her's as he delicately held her hand. Naia smiles and blushes heavily when she feels Adonis's lips by the tender flesh of her ear, as he whispers his words to her.

"Guess who?"

Naia sighs heavily, as if in deep thought, her hands falling to her lap, her fingers curling around each other. "Hmm... Orrin?"

A playful nip to her ear causes Naia to giggle, and Adonis's raspy voice fills her ear once more. "Guess again."

Naia bites her lip as her heart throbs in her chest, and she swallows tightly. Butterflies once more take erratic flight in her stomach, as she says breathlessly, "I think I may need a hint."

Naia lets out the smallest of gentle moans as Adonis's lips fall to the nape of her neck, and then trail to the flesh below her ear. Her breath then comes out in a small gasp, when she feels his teeth nip her skin, and an arm encircle her waist, drawing her closer to his body.

"Adonis..."

A chuckle is ripped from his lips, and Adonis pulls back to place his chin on Naia's shoulder and embrace her from behind with both, powerful arms, as they sit together below the old yew tree, hidden from the village. "Aye my dove, it is me."

Naia smiles and tips her head back to look into Adonis's eyes, silently begging him for a kiss. He obliges her wishes with a kiss that lingers on her lips as his hands tangle with his own in her lap.

"I'm sorry I'm late." Adonis murmurs against Naia's lips, as he lifts a hand to sweep through the dark, silken tendrils of her hair. "I couldn't get away from the others without being seen."

Naia smiles, lifting a hand to place upon Adonis's cheek. "You came to me, and that's all that matters."

Adonis smiles, wondering to himself what made this woman so special, but all the while not caring. "Turn around." he tells her gently. She does so, with his help, and in a matter of seconds she is facing him, the smile that melted his heart every time he saw it hovering on her lips.

"Close your eyes."

Arching a fine brow, Naia does as Adonis asks, sitting perfectly still before him. Adonis reaches into a leather pouch on his hip and opens it up, producing the trinket he bought especially for Naia.

"What are you doing?" Naia questions with a hint of laughter on her voice as she feels Adonis's strong arms on her shoulders, his hands at the nape of her neck. He draws them away a moment later, and bids Naia to open her eyes.

Immediately, a hand flies to her neck, and she gasps in sheer delight. "Adonis!" Around her slender neck lies a thin, leather cord, dropping low to hover just above her breasts. On the end, and dangling just barely between her supple mounds, is a thin sliver of silver, and engraved onto it is an ancient poem by a wise, tender-hearted Greek from ages ago.

"What does it say Adonis, I cannot read it." Naia says, excitement laced in her voice as she picks up the bit of jewelry, twisting it this way and that to try and read what it says. Adonis laughs and steals the item from her hands, leaning forth to read the poem etched in the precious metal.

"'_All for you beloved, all for you I gave. Forever I have you in my heart, and forever I gave you mine._'" Adonis says tenderly, his eyes mixing with Naia's.

He watches as her brown orbs fill with tears as she looks down at the silver treasure, and then up to meet Adonis's once more. He smiles wider, lifting a hand to cup her fragile cheek, and then ducks his head so his eyes are level with her own.

"Do not cry, my precious Naia, 'tis a gift, one you should be happy about."

Naia's smile is watery, but it is a smile nonetheless. "I am happy Adonis, I've never received a gift before. Thank you."

And with that, their lips meet once more, in a gentle, caressing kiss.

---

The sun sails through the sky at an alarming rate. Orrin begins to worry about his sister, who has yet to resurface in the village. Anywhere in the village. Orrin frowns, watching as the sun dips behind the highest houses above the tallest hill in Sparta, and knows that his sister should've been here by now.

_If she is with him again..._ Orrin thinks angrily, looking towards the city gates, which are to close soon.

Orrin knew Naia has been seeing Adonis. He knew she'd been following him and his father to the barracks in the mornings; he had seen her in the shadows. He knew she stole away with him in the afternoons, for he had seen their swift meetings in the market. But he had allowed it, because he knew Naia would despise him if he breathed a word of it to their parents. But this was too far. Where had she gone? What were they doing? Orrin had seen Naia dip out of the city and to the fields a little after noon, but had she returned?

_Well, there is only one way to find out._

---

"How many stars are in the sky, Adonis?"

Adonis smiles at Naia's innocent question, his head nestled in her lap as she sits, cross-legged, beneath the old yew tree. Her hands are gently sifting through his blonde hair as she gazes upwards, to the stars that are just beginning to peek out over the mountains, the moon in their midst.

"As many as you want there to be, Naia."

She smiles at his answer, and then turns her eyes to her beloved. _How mighty a warrior,_ Naia thinks, her soft fingers smoothing the scarred skin of Adonis's brow. _To have fallen at my feet._ He has so many scars, and Naia has asked about every one of them; it is astonishing that Adonis can remember how he got each one, and can recite each thrilling tale without pause. She marvels on how caring he is with her, how gently he treats her, like a delicate porcelain statue.

_Oh, how I love you, Adonis,_ Naia thinks, her eyes roaming every feature of his handsome face. His eyes are shut, creating twin crescents of ebony beneath his eyes. His skin is tanned, and his lips are gently curved in a pleasant smile. He is gorgeous; he is her Spartan.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open, and Adonis is sitting up, facing Naia. The girl blinks, surprised, but is even more so when Adonis grabs her hands and leans close to her, his smile more wicked than she had ever seen it.

"Naia, my sweet," He kisses one hand, and then the other, his lips lingering tantalizingly. "What would you say if I asked you to meet me tonight?"

Startled, Naia blinks again, opening and closing her mouth as a fish out of water would. Adonis merely laughs, and pressing his lips to Naia's once more, silencing her from her incoherent mumbles. She moans into their kiss, her eyes flittering as Adonis pulls back a moment later.

"Meet me, Naia. Meet me here tonight." Adonis urges quietly, pressing his forehead to Naia's.

Lost for words, Naia says brokenly, "I... Adonis... I... I don't know if I can... The gates... Won't they... Closed?"

Adonis cups both of Naia's cheeks in his large hands, tipping her face up to lock eyes with his own. "I know the men who guard them. I can ask them to leave them unlocked. If you can but slip out at midnight Naia..."

Breathless, with unspoken exhilaration thrumming through her veins, Naia looks up at Adonis with bright eyes. "I don't know Adonis... Why? I don't understand..."

"Naia!"

Gasping, and ripping herself out of Adonis's loving grasp, Naia looks towards Sparta, and there she sees her brother, Orrin, striding over to where her and Adonis sit below the yew tree. A silent curse is uttered as Naia hastily stands, brushing off her peplos, Adonis in her wake.

"What are you doing!" Orrin hisses, stopping a mere breath from his sister, his face contorted in rage. "I told you to meet me when the sun sets! Instead you're out here, with _him_! Come! _Now!_ Before you get caught and we _both_ get in trouble!"

Before she can say anything to object, Naia is grabbed by the arm and being dragged away from Adonis. He can neither say anything to stop Orrin, nor does he, because the words that Naia mouth to him root him to the very spot on which he stands.

_I'll be there._

---

Adonis didn't know what he was thinking when asked Naia to meet him under the yew tree at midnight. Because it hadn't been him thinking. It had been his heart.

_Sparta is to go to war soon, and you'll only be leaving behind someone you will never see again!_

Dorian's words echo throughout Adonis's mind, but he pretends to hear them naught. He doesn't want to believe them; Sparta will go to war, yes, but he _will_ see his beloved Naia again. He will come back from war with a scar or two, a few more stories to tell Naia that will bring a smile to her face, and he will marry her. He will marry her, and they will raise a Spartan family to be proud of. These past few days, his every waking moment spent with Naia, have opened Adonis's eyes.

He'd been in love with Naia from the moment he saw her. And he'll do anything now to make her his.

The moon is directly overhead in the sky, Adonis takes notice, but still he paces, his heart racing. Will she come? Will she be caught? _Nay,_ he doesn't want to think on that either. He just wants this one night, a single night with her. He doesn't know how much longer they have.

Adonis pauses for a minute, leans back against the yew tree and tips his head up to gaze at the stars. _How many stars are in the sky, Adonis?_ Her cherubic voice rings about his head, causing a chill to race down his spine, and his heart to soar. _She has the most lovely voice, like a songbird,_ Adonis thinks blissfully, letting out a soft sigh. His lips curve into a smile as, once more, Naia invades his every thought, his every hope, and his every dream.

"Adonis?"

Thrown from his reverie, Adonis takes his gaze from the sky, and looks toward his beloved city, his breath catching in his throat. There stands Naia, dressed in her ivory peplos from earlier in the afternoon, with a shawl of delicate fabric around her shoulders. She is smiling, her lips closed over perfect white teeth, with her hair gently billowing in the midnight wind.

Adonis breathes not a word as Naia takes slow, seductive steps towards her warrior. Adonis's breathing turns heavier, his abdomen tendons rippling with his deep breaths. Naia pauses before him, just a mere hairbreadths away from him. She tilts her head back to look up at Adonis, her eyes sparkling in the glittering moonlight, and in that moment, Adonis is lost.

Naia is swept into Adonis's arms, and her breath leaves her in a gasp as Adonis covers her lips with his own. Both pair of brown eyes are hidden as lids fall to cover them, their mouths dancing in passion. Limbs entangle as Naia reaches for Adonis, and he for her, their bodies pressed so tightly together that it is almost painful. The only words spoken are those of lust and longing, passed between two lips that have been denied each other for too long.

A gasp escapes Naia's lips, and her head falls back as Adonis's claim her throat. Her trembling fingers latch onto his forearms as his strong hands slide up her arms, and his fingers wrap around the tie of her peplos at the base of her neck.

"Adonis..."

His name is the only word she can form, and again and again she murmurs the pray as his lips tease the flesh of her neck and collarbone, his fingers untying the knot at the nape of her neck.

Naia wouldn't have stopped him even if she wanted to. For too long she had dreamt of this, fantasized every detail that accompanied this moment. And through all the different times her mind wrought the ways in which she would become a woman, one thing stood the same; it was always Adonis who was her hero.

Her clothing falls in a puddle at her feet, and, nude, Naia stands before Adonis, who had drawn back, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes roaming her body from head to toe. Naia blushes, having never been bare before anyone before, but stands proud before Adonis, not a trace of fear mauling her angelic features. Adonis smiles at his woman's strength, his eyes locking with hers once more.

"You are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined."

Naia flushes, from her head to her toe, and Adonis chuckles, stepping forward to claim Naia's lips once more. His long, blond hair frames his ruggedly handsome face, and then is swept back by the untamed wind. Naia shivers from the feeling of her own hair teasing her skin and, boldly, she places her fragile hands on Adonis's chest. Her fingers, with a mind of their own, glide over his chiseled skin, before wrapping around the clasp that holds his crimson cloak about his shoulders. A moment later, Adonis's cape falls to the ground in a river of scarlet, causing Naia to moan appreciatively at the sight, and then laugh lowly in her throat.

"What do you find funny?" Adonis growls, as Naia's brazen hands reach to the belt at his waist, unclasping the buckle there as well. His sword falls to the ground with a clatter, and Naia breaks her lips from Adonis's to look into his eyes that are filled with desire, just as hers are.

"Who is the warrior now?"

Their bodies are lost then, in a tangle of limbs, clothing and trinkets falling to the ground one by one. In the moonlight they fall, as one, to the ground, their bodies as bare as the day they were born. Breathing is heavy, fingers are tangled in wild locks of hair, as sensual moans are ripped from throats that are dry with the need of untamed passion.

Her hands glide over smooth, sleek muscles, igniting his skin for every inch they cover. Her lips nibble and suckle, her body arched against his own, striving, begging, _craving_ for more. His hands are relentless in their assault to please, his mouth just as merciless. Like the warrior he is, he takes possession over her body, claiming it so many times that Naia loses herself in bliss, crying out unto the night in throes of passion.

And when his hips align with hers, Naia grasps his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his rough skin as she stares up at her Spartan lover, her body coated, like his, in a fine sheen of sweat.

"Adonis... I haven't... Not another..." Naia pants, her lips parted and gasping at the feel of Adonis so close.

"It's all right," Adonis whispers, his hands tangling in her hair as his lips cover hers once more. "Neither have I."

The night is then filled with cries of love undone, of gentle thrusts and fantasies fulfilled. Naia is lost, as well as Adonis, as their souls become one, in a tradition between man and his woman as old as time itself. A bond is created, one that cannot be broken; not by politics or family, war or sorrow. It is a bonding of the heart, of the very soul a being possesses.

---

The next morning, Naia is awoken by the loud, thundering tone of her father, and torrents of rain pounding the roof of her home. Blinking back the slumber from her eyes and ignoring the pain she feels in places she naught felt before, Naia crawls out of bed and quickly dons a fresh, ivory peplos and rushes out of her room, fighting off sleep and ache with every step.

"...go! Why now?! What has he planned?!"

Her mother's frantic voice alarms her, and Naia's steps hasten down the stone corridor to the small, simple foyer. Her hair a tousled mess and her eyes still laden with sleep, Naia abruptly stops in the vestibule of her home and her eyes widen at what she sees.

Her father is standing toe to toe with her mother, Orrin standing a few paces behind Thanos. Both men are dressed in full Spartan regalia; a vile sight that freezes Naia's heart on it's next beat.

"I do not know, Calista, but we cannot disobey Leonidas. He says we are to leave today, so we must leave today."

Naia gasps, bringing a trembling, pale hand to her throat, her eyes broadening and her heart resuming it's rapid rhythm in her chest. The minuscule sound alerts to her family that the young woman is present, and all eyes are turned to her.

"Naia..."

She is gone in a heartbeat. Pushing past her father and ripping open her front door, Naia runs out into the pouring rain, lighting sparking dangerously overhead.

"Naia!"

Her feet trounce through puddles and thick pools of mud, her peplos instantly soaking in the rain. She pants through parted lips, moving swiftly between houses on cold, bare feet, her hair flying in a wild, wet tangle behind her.

_Leaving... Adonis..._

She stumbles into the square as another, threatening bolt of lighting slashes across the sky and thunder claps in response. Spartan warrior upon Spartan warrior is gathered in the square, shields held mightily on one arm, and a deadly spear held in the opposite hand. Few lips move among the men, though they move restlessly with the anticipation of impending bloodlust and vicious battle.

"Adonis!"

Fear grips Naia unlike any fear before. She hears the order for the gathered men to "Move out!" and she begins to panic, her breath coming out in sharp, small gasps.

"Adonis!"

"Adonis!?"

Wildly ripping through the men, Naia tears at their flesh, their cloaks, bruising her fragile body on heavy shields as she stumbles over large feet. But she does not care. No, the only thing her mind can comprehend is that _she must find Adonis._

"Adonis!"

She is screaming his name violently as the troops begin to move towards the city exit, led by Leonidas and his ever-faithful Captain. Hoard upon hoard of scarlet cloaks file out of the narrow, city gates, and Naia begins to fear she has lost her love forever.

"Naia!"

Spinning so fast she nearly collapses to the ground, wide, round eyes land on her Adonis. Letting out a whimper in relief, she flies into his arms, and, not caring that he is surrounded by his Spartan brethren and can be looked down upon for his weakness, Adonis captures Naia in his arms, embracing her tightly to his chiseled chest.

"I thought you... I thought you left..." Naia weeps, her face buried in the blood-red cloth of Adonis's cape, her fingers curling into his skin as her body quakes in fear.

The only words Adonis can murmur are, "...I'm sorry."

Naia clenches her eyes shut tightly, feeling her nails break Adonis's skin as a sob is torn from her throat. She sinks in Adonis's grasp, her knees weakening so much so that she can barely hold herself up anymore.

"No..."

"I'm sorry, my dove," Adonis whispers into her hair, his hand stroking her thick, curled locks, drenched in the downpour of the unforgiving rain. "It is not something that I have control over. I must serve my king. And I will do it proudly."

They stand silent, the only sounds coming from the trampling of many leather sandals, and the raging thunderstorm above. Naia's sobs cease after a long moment, and, pulling back from Adonis, she lifts her chin defiantly, though her hands still tremble with a mighty force as they now clutch the crimson fabric of Adonis's cloak.

Staring into pools of wavering deep, dark amber, Adonis feels his very heart shatter in two. He can tell Naia is trying her very best not to show impotence, though her eyes shed her despair. Her hands are cold, quaking and wet from the merciless rain, her hair hanging in wet tendrils around her beautiful face. Her peplos is soaked to her very flesh, but she stands before Adonis as proud as any warrior would be.

She then removes her hands from the rippling tendons of his chest, tipping her face to the muddy puddles in which she stands. She reaches up to touch the knot at the nape of her neck, untying the gentle leather cords that clasp the beloved necklace that Adonis had given her just yesterday.

"Naia..."

She raises her eyes to his, striking him silent where he stands. The last of the warriors begin to brush past them, the crowd lessening with each passing chassis. But to the lovers, there is no one else in the world, but them.

Slowly, and keeping her calm resolve on the surface, Naia removes the bit of jewelry from her throat and lifts it to Adonis's. He raises his hand to stop her, but she bypasses them, her eyes focusing on the thin cord she ties at the nape of Adonis's own neck.

"Naia... I gave it to you as a gift."

Placing her hands on his chest, and arching her head back to blink through the rain so she may gaze at her Spartan lover, Naia responds, "I know. And I want it back."

Adonis's gaze never wavers from Naia's, their eyes intermingling with one another's for what may be the last time. Unspoken words are passed between the two, and then, slowly, and but once, Adonis nods to Naia, the corners of his fine lips upturning in a gentle, beautiful smile.

And then he is gone.

In a whirl of crimson, Naia watches as her warrior departs with the last of the men, daring not to look back. So Naia watches, standing tall and, on the outside, strong, as the rain and the looming darkness of the storm above her steals her love, her heart, and her very soul, from sight.

Turning her gaze to the turbulent sky above her, Naia's fists clench at her sides as another bolt of lightening slices the morning sky. Pouring down her flesh, a mixture of rain and tears fall to the ground from Naia's trembling chin. Lids close over frigid pools of swirling, sunburned gold, as Naia fights the urge to fall to her very knees, and weep.


	3. Part Three

_His mighty battle cry echoes throughout the narrow, winding corridor of the Hot Gates as his blade slaughters the last of the enemy. Panting, Adonis lowers his sword, his raging, brown eyes scouring the wide expanse of land for more Persians to slay. But the last had fallen at his feet, and upon realizing this, shrieks of victory raise from his fellow warriors._

Long were the days and nights; the darkness was filled with battle strategies, and the first morning light brought bloodshed. Adonis reveled in it. He craved the crimson color of blood running free beneath his feet after he took down Persian upon Persian. He loved seeing his mighty Spartan brothers form together to create impassable barriers and plan intricate battle formations that led to the enemy's demise. He loved being a part of the madness, the glory, and the ravishing need to conquer.

Leonidas was a proud and valiant leader. He gave the soldiers hope, and the will to believe that they _could_ beat Xerxes infallible army. But Adonis knew the truth of it, as did the others.

They would not be returning home.

He didn't say as much, but the men could see it etched onto the face of their king. See the eroding despair in his black eyes. But he never wavered in the carnage they swept upon the land. Nay, he was too proud for that, as were his gallant soldiers, and nor was it Spartan law.

_No retreat, no surrender; that is Spartan law. And by Spartan law we will stand and fight... and die. A new age has begun. An age of freedom! And all will know, that three hundred Spartans gave their last breaths to defend it!_

And so they stood strong, an army of one, unlike any army the world had ever seen. They plowed through the enemy without care and at the cost of their lives, for one thing and one thing alone: Freedom.

Though one man fought for more. His heart, his soul, his _very being _went into every offensive stance, every movement against the aggressor. Every roar of triumph, every scream of rage, and every breath that left his lungs went to living through another night, to fight another day, so he could hope to return to his home, and his love. Though the hope inside was quickly waning, and with each passing day, a little part inside the fierce, brave warrior, died.

---

A sennight passed over Spartan land, taking with it the sun and the warmth for good crop and happy spirits. Clouds seemed to be present over the city for days at a time, and with them came torrents of rain. This sudden change in weather coerced the townspeople to stay within the walls of Sparta, though Naia would not have gone out, rain or shine. Her heart lay in shambles at her feet, and unlike the rest of the women in the village, she did not want to remain strong, nor proud. She wanted to stay locked in darkness, and weep.

And so she did. Rarely eating or seeing the light of the scarce sun, Naia either sat in her room, looking longingly over the luscious wheat fields, who seemed to be the only ones benefitting from the rain, towards the mountains, or worked in the kitchen of her home, trying her best to keep her mind off of Adonis and the inevitable knowledge that shadowed her dreams of him.

She would never see him again.

Her mother urged her to go outside here and there, or to at least move around the house. But Naia barely spoke, let alone move about more than she had to. Her voice became weak and her body incredibly thin, her skin ashen, and her hair and eyes lost the luster she knew Adonis adored so much. She just could not bring herself to care anymore, for who cared for her? She became so unlike herself that she got sick more often than not and became disinterested in her usual hobbies. Her friends worried for her, her mother grew more and more concerned with each passing day, but they knew they could do nothing. Because deep down in their hearts they felt the pain Naia did, subdued at best, but it was there. Whether for a brother, an uncle, a father or a lover, pain lacerated their hearts, but they knew they had to be strong for one another.

But not Naia. She could not be strong, feeling as though her life had crumbled at her feet; and how could she care for her friends, when she could not even care for herself? When every night tears stained her pillow and her bed linens? When every day she dare not shed a smile, nor a peel of laughter? When with every day that passed, the hope that slowly died inside, took with it her heart and soul?

Nay, Naia would never be the same. Not until Adonis was in her arms once more. Not until she could look into his dark brown eyes and see her own reflection. Not until she could feel his skin under her delicate fingers once more. She strained to keep hope alive inside of her, to be able to believe that the few Spartan warriors that loyally followed their king would become victorious against the almighty Persian army.

But deep down in their souls, every Spartan left behind knew there would be no coming back for their heroes.

---

The night is raw with quiet celebration, yet littered with sorrow. Spartans speak with each other in small groups and eat hearty, their voices barely echoing throughout the corridor of the Hot Gates in which they are camped. Fires burn bright, their flames dancing wildly beneath the glimmering light of the moon and stars. The night air is thick with heat, thick with the thrill that came with victory, and thick with the souls of the honored dead that had passed this day. Even Leonidas seems pleased with the outcome of the day; though they had lost few; his Spartan warriors have proven to be more powerful than he imagined. He sits on the edge of the merrymakers, a tankard of fresh water in hand and a pondering smile on his handsome face.

Though one sits alone. Away from the others, not taking a part in the festivities at hand. Not a drink, nor a bit of food is in his hands, and his gaze is turned towards the stars above his head, while his back faces the hoard of men behind him.

He can see her up there, just as if she were truly in front of him. Her face glowing in the pale light of the moon, her eyes reflected in the stars. Oh, how his heart aches for her. How he longs to hold her in his arms just once more...

"Adonis!"

Turning slightly, brown eyes find cheerful green ones, as Dorian races up to his comrade, two tankards of refreshing water in hand.

"Come my friend! Why are you not celebrating with us?!"

Adonis smiles, good-naturedly taking the drink from his friend, but he refrains from taking a swallow of the liquid that could not quench his thirst. Dorian makes a sound of impatience and dashes off again, calling to more of his peers, his drink sloshing almost entirely out of his cup on his way.

Adonis sets down his own tankard and turns his eyes back to the sky. He tried not to let it show, for days on end, he truly did. But when darkness blanketed the land, he could not hold back his despair any longer. His heart had been broken, and lay in fragmented pieces at his feet.

"Why so quiet?"

Adonis looks up, startled, and becomes even more so when he sees his brave king Leonidas standing tall above him, a rare, kind smile on his face.

"You look up to the stars as if it is your last night on Earth, Adonis." Leonidas takes a spot beside the younger warrior, and turns his gaze to the stars as well.

"It very well may be." Adonis mumbles, his darkened eyes now lowering to the dirt beneath his feet.

Leonidas's eyes narrow on the young Spartan, and, gently, he says, "You love her."

Adonis jerks to face his king, his features etched with wonder. "What?"

"I've seen the look many times, boy; even had it a few times myself." Leonidas admits, his gaze turning to the night sky once more. "You fight not only for freedom, but for her. You strive to live through the battle, hoping that it is the last, so you may return home and see her once more. You desire, more than anything, to feel her warm body in your arms, to feel her lips caressing your own." Leonidas chuckles, looking back to a stunned Adonis. "It is love, my friend."

Adonis looks away, ashamed that his emotions are so plainly read, his stare lingering on the ground as his fingers intertwine with themselves. His heart throbs in his chest, his eyes burning as he keeps the river of despair from breaking through the dam he had kept solid for so long.

"You are a Spartan, are you not?"

The question, with an answer so obvious, causes Adonis to arch a fine brow, his brown eyes narrowing on his king. "Aye."

"And what is Spartan law?"

Adonis scowls now, not knowing where his king is going with this conversation. "Never retreat, never surrender."

"Right!" Leonidas growls, a grin on his ruggedly handsome face. "Never retreat, never surrender! _Fight_ for her! Do not spend your days and nights thinking of how you will never see her again. Fight so you can!" Leonidas's strong, sturdy hand grasps one of Adonis's shoulders, his voice low and powerful. "Fight for victory, fight for freedom, and at the very most, my friend, fight for hope."

And with that Leonidas stands, a sea of crimson following in his wake as he walks towards his mighty fellows. Adonis's eyes trail after his leader, before he tears them away, to look back at the stars, a soft smile upon his lips.

_Fight for hope_.

---

"Naia, _please_, you must eat something."

Dabbing at her forehead with a damp cloth, Calista lifts a trembling hand to her daughter's ashen cheek, to which Naia turns away weakly.

"I'm not hungry."

Her mother winces at the sound of Naia's voice, so delicate, so fragile, and barely there. Her daughter is sick, in bed, unable to move for lack of sleep and food, and poor health, that is steadily growing worse with each day that passes.

"Naia please, _listen to me_, you cannot go on like this! You must move about, eat something! I cannot stand to see you like this..." Calista begs feebly, her fingers clutching the bed linen that covers her withering daughter. "I sent for the healer, but I do not know when she will come. Naia you must stop this at once, what would your father say? Orrin?"

Naia looks away from her mother then, turning her eyes to the torrents of rain pouring down outside the window of her bedchamber. Lightning strikes the sky, illuminating the horrific scene within the household riddled with despair.

Naia lies on her bed, her body sprawled atop perfectly clean linens, her skin tone matching the color of the ivory sheets. Her hair, lacking shine and body, falls limply around her pillow and body, whereas her eyes, if not closed, lack all life. Her breathing is shallow, dangerously slow, and her heart hardly beat enough to sustain life. She hadn't eaten in a week, and now could not even move from her bed. Death looms on the horizon for the young maiden, who gladly welcomes it. She would be with her love then.

"They are dead, mother. They say naught."

Thunder roars across the afternoon sky, and another slash of lightning shatters the darkness. Calista looks down at her daughter, her face impassive, her body rigid.

"How _dare_ you!"

Naia closes her eyes at her mother's shriek, wishing she could close her ears as well. In a whirl of white peplos, Calista towers above her daughter in raging fury, pointing a quaking finger at Naia as tears stream down her face.

"You dare speak of your father like that, or your brother, when you know naught of their condition! They could be on their way home now, and there you lie, in filthy _disgrace_, and only the gods know why! You refuse to eat, refuse to move, and in doing so you refuse to support our warriors who are risking their _lives_ for the likes of _yours_!" Calista's face is contorted in madness, her brown eyes blazing wildly. "Is that how you show your thanks, daughter? You lie there like a wounded dog, refusing to stand strong for our men, refusing to acknowledge that you are a Spartan woman, one who should stand proudly, waiting for her father and brother to return to her? And even if they do not, you should stand strong for those who need you! Yet you lie there, wallowing in your own grief? You shame me Naia, _you shame me_."

Tears slip from under the dulled, ebony lashes on Naia's face as her mother leaves the room with the fury of a storm, still screaming, and slamming the door behind her. A stifled sob escapes Naia's lips and she chokes on her cries.

Her mother is right. She is a coward.

---

"Spartans! Prepare for glory!"

The cry jerks Adonis from his sleep, though with a few, quick blinks of his brown eyes, he is alert and awake, his shield in one hand and his spear in the other.

All eyes are on Leonidas, who speaks with the Arcadian leader. Too far to hear what words are passed between the men, Adonis watches a moment later as the Arcadian takes to his horse once more, and dashes down the high, stone corridor in which the Spartans camp, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

"Children! Children. Gather 'round..."

His words ring throughout the night, and each soldier that still stood tall and strong, listens with a keen ear. Firelight flickers over the grim faces of the wounded yet victorious men; already so many have been lost. A hand on his sword, Adonis proudly raises his fist with the others in the cry of the Spartan warrior, making known that he, too, is prepared for battle.

Even if it is going to be their last.

All falls to silence though, as Leonidas's dearest friend, and most loyal Captain, stumbles upon the group, and Adonis feels a slice of pain lacerate his heart. Today, the Captain had lost his most beloved son, and he now stands before their dwindling group a broken man, bathed in the blood of his enemies and the sweat it took him to put them in their grave. Adonis watches as the two men converse, his eyes flickering over his own brethren that still stand strong and alive.

Dorian stands across the fire from him, his green eyes trained on the Captain. Astinos had been a good friend of Dorian's, and though each Spartan felt the loss of a brother-at-arms, it is those closest to the fallen one that feel the pain of loss the most. Adonis then turns his gaze to rove over the others, and his brown orbs meet Thanos, who had been wounded severely today, but still stands to protect his land and fight for his freedom. Beside his father stands Orrin, a wide, dirtied bandage around his middle, already stained with the ruby of his blood. But he stands without a trace of fear and with the firm stance of a man who knows this will be his last battle. His chin is tipped up slightly, and his handsome, fine features are accented by the dancing luminescence of the flames at his feet. And then suddenly, brown meets brown as Orrin turns his gaze, ever so slightly, to meet Adonis's. The soldiers stare at one another, as the Captain still speaks, before, very subtly, Orrin inclines his head to Adonis, his eyes softening to show respect. Adonis returns the simple gesture, before taking his eyes from Orrin and placing them on his leader once more, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.

"Spartans! Ready your breakfast and eat hearty; For tonight, we dine in Hell!"

---

The strengthening light of the sun is bright, shedding warmth unto the warriors, though night still reigns above all else. Gulls cry high above their heads, waiting to feast on the corpses that are sure to be aplenty from this battle. Adonis can see, from behind his raised shield, the mighty Xerxes standing tall above the rest, his face etched in arrogance and disdain as he looks down upon Leonidas. The Spartan king stands still and listens to the soldier of Xerxes as he gives Xerxes's final offer to the Spartans. But his words fell on deaf ears, for every Spartan knows that their king did not give in to submission.

The only sounds coming from behind the raised shields are those of the heavy breaths of the Spartans, ready for battle, _ready to die._ Each grips his sword or spear with renowned vigor, anticipating the carnage about to unfold. Each can feel the exhilaration thrumming through their veins, the adrenaline choking their minds as they watch the Persians with sharp, bloodthirsty eyes.

Leonidas then kneels, and Adonis feels the shifts of the men around him, the nervous excitement of heat trembling the very bones in his body. Adonis narrows his eyes, flexing his strong fingers over the hilt of his sword, his heart pounding in the column of his throat. Sweat trickles down the sea of rippling tendons of his chest, and down the nape of his neck, soaking his cloak, but Adonis feels naught. The only thing he feels is pride, and the hope he clings to with every breath he takes.

_Fight for victory, fight for freedom, and at the very most, my friend, fight for hope._

It all happens at once. Adonis watches as Stelios slays the Persian standing before Leonidas, and then stands before his king with a sadistic grin on his handsome face. Xerxes final roar rips through the warriors, and a melee unravels, causing every Spartan to lunge into battle.

Crying wildly, Adonis breaks from the protective barrier of Spartan shields and slashes at his enemy, causing many to fall at his feet. But there are too many. They are outnumbered, on _all _sides. Arrows slice the air, cutting down his brothers one by one, swords clash with those who still stand strong enough to fight. Adonis is fighting three at once, four at once, five at once...

His body is thrown by the force of a swinging Immortal's shield, and Adonis finds himself tossed from battle, to the very precipice on the cliff where the battle rages. Away from his brethren, away from the fight, Adonis finds himself surrounded, with only his shield for protection. He jumps to his feet, shaking off the lightheadedness that threatens to overtake him as he backs away from those surrounding him, back to the battle. But Immortals and Persians alike charge him, and a blade is rammed through his middle, rendering him unable to move as the sword is shoved into him, hilt to flesh. The putrid breath of the soldier who has slain him snarls out a feral chuckle as more slashes fall against Adonis's back, neck, arms, legs...

And then he falls, the sword ripped from his abdomen, a ribbon of blood flying from his body. His sword is knocked out of his hand and into the air while his shield falls atop him, painfully raking into his flesh. Crying out not as a warrior, but as a man, blood chokes his throat as he grabs at the dirt, trying to reach for his fallen sword. But it is no use. His breath leaves him quicker now, his body feels like heavy iron upon the molten ground. His eyesight blurs, and when he feels a grasp on his wrist, Adonis fears for his very life.

"A..donis..."

At the sound of his name on such weak lips, Adonis fights to keep his eyes open as blood pours from his wounds, and turns his head to face the voice as Leonidas, king and conqueror, stands tall above the rest, his arms raised to the sky.

"Adonis... I don't... Want to die..."

Adonis can barely make out the bloodied face of Orrin, gripping Adonis's wrist so tightly that it hurts. Adonis reaches to the younger man, placing a hand over his own as his eyes lock with Orrin's, for the last time.

"You... Fought valiantly... My brother."

Closing his eyes, Adonis's head slowly turns to face the warm rays of the sun as a sea of arrows takes to the sky above his head. He opens his eyes, fresh tears mauling his vision, yet a gentle, forlorn smile graces his lips. The last stars of the night fade from his view as the arrows stab the ground, the bodies around him, blood flying from his brave, proud Spartan warriors. Adonis closes his eyes once more, and, taking his last breath through blood-soaked lips, he thinks of her, one last time.

_How many stars are in the sky, Adonis?_

---

Sunshine and warmth envelop Sparta once more, as another sennight takes the stronghold. Sparta's army is ready and prepared for battle, with no word from their king and the final consent from the Council. Queen Gorgo stands with her son by her side, watching as men pour into the square, her head held high. Generals give orders to which troops they command, though most of the army stands outside the city walls, waiting for the final order.

Naia stands beside her mother, looking healthier than what she truly is. But her mother was right, she realized that night she was slain by Calista's words. She was acting like a disgrace. Spartan women did not show weakness, and when their men took to war, it was their duty to support them all that they could.

And so she stands, with a gentle shawl around her shoulders, her skin still pale and barely shining in the morning light. Her long, brown hair gently billows in the wind, her brown eyes locked on what is taking place before her. She stands on the edge of the crowd, her proud queen in sight, as general after general approach Gorgo and kneel at her feet, pledging their allegiance to Sparta and already speaking of victory.

"My queen! Look!"

Gorgo jerks her head to who had spoken, and then follows the point of their finger to the crowd of soldiers before her. The sea of valiant generals part before her, revealing a single man in a crimson cape.

Dilios, one of the three hundred who had left Sparta a little over a fortnight ago, walks to his queen slowly, his eye set only on her; his other eye is covered by a cloth, noticeably maimed. Naia's breath is lost as her throat tightens, and her heart begins to pound wildly within the cage of her chest. She hears her mother's gentle gasp beside her, and all is silent as the wounded Spartan warrior stops in front of his queen, his look fierce, but defeated.

It is then Naia, and everyone knows for sure, that grace had fallen.

Lifting a single arm, Dilios reaches out to his queen, a small trinket held in his grasp. Gorgo looks down upon it, and then, trembling all the while, extends her hand as well, ready to receive whatever it is that Dilios has to offer.

As the necklace of the king falls into Gorgo's hand, a cry is ripped from her throat, and she is the first to fall to her knees in despair, her weeps of pain and sorrow cutting through the crowd about her.

Tears stream down Naia's face, but she dare not turn her gaze from her fallen, sobbing queen. Others around her begin to cry, for they, too lost a husband, a father, a brother, or an uncle, in the battle that will now lead their country to war. Naia feels her mother collapse next to her, and her shrieks are some of the loudest as she clutches her daughter's peplos, begging the gods to bring back her Thanos, her Orrin. But it is no use, for the cries of Spartan women, children and elders fall on deaf ears.

---

Another sennight has passed since the loss of the brave three hundred. Efforts are being made to assemble every free Greek, for the story of the bold Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans travels far over the lands. New men are gathered each day from every country around the globe, each pledging to fight for freedom against the god-king Xerxes and his terrible army.

Life appears to have returned to the daily routine of Spartan life, though sorrow is now laced upon every feature Naia comes across during her day. Some cannot come to terms with the fact that all, save one, are lost. Most try to be strong for the others, but it is so hard, when so many of their people grieve.

Naia walks the marketplace, her eyes uninterested in the fruit she is supposed to be purchasing. The sun is bright, and warms her skin, yet she feels it naught, nor the gentle caress of the summer breeze on her flesh. She strives, so hard, to appear strong on the outside, for her mother and for her friends, but inside, she knows she will never be the same. Sorrow has taken her like a plague, withering her insides, taking her emotions with her. She passes the days as a void, doing what is necessary to soothe her mother and keep the house from falling to shambles on the ground. It is the only reason she lives now.

Because her heart, her soul, was dead.

"Man the gates!"

The call echoes throughout the square, and for a moment, all eyes are turned towards the open, city gates. There, in the distance, gaining ground, Naia can see a contingent of men riding hard and fast towards Sparta.

_More allies_, Naia thinks, turning back to her fruit. Nevertheless, Gorgo is summoned, and patiently she waits, with her son by her side, for the leader of the riders to approach her, like so many others have.

"Good queen!"

Naia stills, watching as the rider lunges into the marketplace on the back of a black stallion, scattering the patrons of Sparta as he goes. His horse rears up in front of Gorgo, but she does not waver in her stance, and waits for the rider to dismount. He does so, and kneels at her feet, his breathing hard and heavy as his fellows fill the wide square.

"Arcadian." Gorgo inclines her head, and the man stands. "What business do you have in Sparta?"

"Fair queen," The man is a warrior, no doubt. He wears brown leather, a sword upon his back with crisscrossing leather straps across his chest. His head his shaved, and his beard is braided into two separate plaits. Behind him stands his fellows, still mounted upon their fierce war horses. "Fair queen, you have my deepest regards and most sincere apologies. We were with your king, we followed him into battle, but at the last moment I could sacrifice no more, and so I left. I turned my back on Sparta."

Naia stiffens, watching as the riders behind the Arcadian leader prance their horses to one side, and foot soldiers come forth, each baring the body of a fallen Spartan.

"I have brought back the bodies of your loved ones, bold queen, in hopes that you will forgive our treacherous deeds, led astray by my despicable decision." The Arcadian bows again, a hand on his sword, and Gorgo raises her chin as the body of her king can be seen in the arms of two, strong Arcadian men.

"There is nothing to forgive. You fought gallantly beside my husband, I am sure, and deserve praise for you and your men's vigor." Gorgo's voice wavers, though very inaudibly, as her eyes train on the slowly decaying body of Leonidas.

"But good queen, we were cowards; we could've been there and helped them to defeat Xerxes army."

Gorgo smiles, ever so gently, and all but whispers, "No, you couldn't."

Cries anew wreak havoc upon the crowd as families are reunited with their fallen loved ones. Gorgo strains not to let weakness show upon her face as bodies are laid at her feet, bodies of those she knew and cared for well. Leonidas, the Captain, Stelios...

A flash of crimson catches her eye, and Naia feels her heart leap to her throat. True, there are many crimson cloaks in the square, wavering in the gentle wind that sweeps the city. But Naia knows this cloak, had felt it with her very own hands, had felt it spread over her own flesh. Her eyes tear themselves away from Gorgo, and Naia nearly collapses to the ground as two soldiers hold up the body of her dearest love, Adonis.

"But, good queen, there was one..."

Tender, brown eyes meet Naia's, brown eyes that she had dreamed of for so long, that she thought she would never see full of life again. A cry of anguish is ripped from her throat, before Naia drops her basket full of fruit and brings her hands to cover her gaping mouth as rivers of tears streak down her face.

"He survived. We don't know how or why the gods chose him, but he lived. We found him just in time..."

Adonis smiles as he gazes at his Naia, and the soldiers bring his wounded and ragged body before his queen. Though cleaned, by the good graces of the Arcadians, Adonis is wounded fatally; Naia can tell from the many bandages that maul his skin. All is silent in the square as Adonis is brought before Gorgo, his face contorting in pain though he tries his hardest to stand proudly on his own two feet.

Naia cannot help but let out a sob as Gorgo smiles, and nods at Adonis, and the warrior bows his head in respect. The Arcadians holding the Spartan between them gently shift him in their arms, and, finally finding her voice, Naia rips from the awed crowd and dashes to her love's side.

"Adonis!"

She falls to his feet, weeping, grabbing the hem of his scarlet cloak with trembling pale fingers. She feels his body gently laid to the ground beside her's, and Naia nearly comes undone when she feels Adonis's arms encircle her once more. He holds her tenderly, his head laid gently atop her own, and though he feels excruciating pain slice through his body, he dare not move, not wanting to soil the moment he had been dreaming of for days on end; when he would look upon the face of his precious Naia once more.

"Adonis... Oh, Adonis..."

The warrior smiles, his fingers finding Naia's as they pull back to gaze at one another. With cracked, dry lips, Adonis kisses Naia's quaking fingers, one by one, before he gently slips something into the palm of her hand.

"You must promise me that you will wear this, for all time."

Tears blurring her vision, Naia looks down into her hand at the trinket that lies there. It is her necklace, as precious as ever. Smiling, Naia lifts her eyes to Adonis's as she raises a hand to his scarred cheek, as all those around them watch in muted joy.

"I promise, my love."


End file.
